


She Liked To Lead

by orphan_account



Category: Frozen (2013)
Genre: F/M, One Shot, slightly dominant Anna
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-02
Updated: 2014-08-02
Packaged: 2018-02-11 10:23:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2064495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anna and Kristoff bedroom drabble</p>
            </blockquote>





	She Liked To Lead

She liked to lead. Grabbing his hand as they walked through the square, dragging him towards the sweets vendor, almost leaping with her vigor. Collapsing in his lap, seemingly out of nowhere. 

Lifting her heavy head up to meet his.

Lips, too eager to pretend otherwise, crashing ever so slightly into the more chapped pair. Her hands were the ones that were the first to cup, to touch, to lift up the rough hewn hems from his body. 

He was Kristoff, and he was hers.  
She was Anna, and she was his.

But he was hers far more often.

It was her legs that straddled, pushing herself up on her elbows and slowly, unbearably slowly, searching for the perfect place to focus the meeting of their bodies. Her kisses trailing across the hollow of his neck, rougher than he could have ever dared. Anna was fire, barely contained, but he was a mountain, and he was always terrified of crushing her, hurting her.

Anna had no such worries.

She played at the drawstring of his leathery winter pants, breathing a question as softly as a sigh. Kristoff could only smile and assist, using deft fingers to untie the half frozen knots.

She could grow so impatient during those precious seconds.

Anna would flop onto the mattress, face down, muffling a request to be untied from the laces and bows and hidden hooks that made a princess gown as inconvenient as possible, “and to do it quickly”. 

Kristoff sometimes took that as a time to tease and move slowly, but more often, he obeyed.

In return, she immediately climbed back onto her mountain man, hooking her freckled and bruised legs around his immense middle. He was always the gentlest at this part, slowly guiding himself into her warmth. It was such a relief to feel her warmth, to push away the memories of when she was cold, and he was alone.

In unison, they would move, sometimes holding whispered conversations of love (and sometimes, louder proclamations of lust). She liked to take the lead in finishing as well, edging closer and closer as her fire burned brighter.

With a spark like lightning, almost more pain than pleasure, she’d fall undone, writhing and contracting, eliciting the same response from him.

The quiet afterwards was sacred.

Twisting hands, less urgent, with more time to explore. Quietly breathing, side by side. She would turn, eyes more alight and shiny than he thought they had a right to be, when all they were looking at was him.

She spoke first.

“I love you.”  
“I love you too, feisty pants.”


End file.
